


almost too late

by enamuko



Series: Corrin Ship Week [1]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: M/M, also because i need more experience writing him, m!corrin for some variety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 15:31:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11739954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enamuko/pseuds/enamuko
Summary: All it takes is one moment to lose the most important thing in your life. When Corrin nearly dies on the battlefield, Iago reflects heavily on that fact.





	almost too late

**Author's Note:**

> I actually had this one almost completely finished back for Corrin ship week, but I got completely distracted by the release of Mass Effect: Andromeda. So I've finally finished it up and I'm deeply pleased about it.
> 
> This was originally intended to be for the Corrin ship week prompt "late/delayed".

“Where is he?”

There was a fire in Iago’s eyes that was more than adequate for getting people to move out of his way, but was most certainly detrimental when trying to get answers. The soldiers and attendants cowered away from him as he stormed through the halls, surrounded by an almost palpable aura of violence. And he was almost certainly about to start _inflicting_ that violence if he didn’t get the answers he was looking for…

It was one of the healers who finally came forward, quivering like a newborn deer who was told to go make friends with a hungry wolf.

“He—He’s right this way,” the young man stammered, backing away to lead him down the hall as if turning his back on him would result in a knife between the shoulderblades.

Iago swept down the hall after him, practically stepping on his heels. As soon as he had pointed out the door to him, he scurried off as if someone had set him on fire, but Iago couldn’t care less.

Corrin lay stretched out on a medical cot. He looked as though he were sleeping soundly, but the freshly changed bandages told a different story. There was no one else in the room at the moment, but Iago could all too easily picture the healers leaning over him, casting their staves and checking his vitals, scurrying to make sure that he remained in stable condition.

The anger rapidly drained out of him as he stepped into the room, closing the door behind himself softly. He couldn’t imagine waking Corrin up—not with the injuries he’d sustained. All the same, he didn’t want to take the chance.

Creeping inside, the first thing Iago did was seek out the chart the healers had left noting the young prince’s medical condition. As he’d suspected, he was quite stable—thank the Gods—but there was little else quite so promising. He’d sustained heavy injuries in the battle, and even the most powerful staves they had couldn’t heal him entirely—they were clearly hoping his dragon blood would get him back up to speed more quickly than a normal human. Depending on it, almost, which was never a good idea when it came to a hope that wasn’t backed with the slightest bit of evidence. They couldn’t stomach the thought of going into battle without Corrin to lead them…

Months ago, Iago would have been happy to laugh at them for their sentimentality and dependency. How could one come to depend so fully on such a naïve, inexperienced leader? But now, his feelings were the same, though for different reasons…

There was a spare chair sitting by Corrin’s bed, likely for visitors—and he had no doubt there would be many, though the moment that he’d heard of Corrin’s conditions he’d rushed to his side, meaning there were likely few others who had been there before him. Corrin’s siblings, perhaps, if they weren’t too busy dealing with the other casualties of the day’s battle. Iago was unburdened with such concerns—it was perhaps the first time he had felt _lucky_ to be so powerless within the army, particularly when compared to his former position under Garon.

He took up the seat next to Corrin’s bed and simply stared at him for a while. Perhaps if he watched over him long enough some spark of inspiration would come to him, some simple solution to the problem that everyone else’s weaker minds had simply overlooked. It was all fool’s talk, of course, but he found it a comfort to think of nonetheless. It kept his mind off the severity of the situation, and honestly, crazier things had happened… like the fact he was sitting by Corrin’s bedside at all, for starters.

If only he had gotten there sooner…

 

* * *

 

_There was no such thing as order on a battlefield. You could be the most intelligent tactician, plan for every eventuality, and human nature would still find a way to completely derail things. People forgot things, or panicked; enemies behaved in completely unpredictable ways, forcing soldiers to think on their feet and abandon the carefully laid plans of those very intelligent tacticians._

_Iago had thought that it would be even more infuriating to be_ on _the battlefield, seeing those plans unravelling before his very eyes—plans he hadn’t even come up with in the first place, and would surely be inferior from the start. But there was far too much chaos for him to even think, never mind be disappointed—he was simply too busy dodging death._

_It was even worse that the enemies were beings he’d never even known existed—strange soldiers that seemed to fade in and out of reality, surrounded by a strange aura he couldn’t help but think was familiar. He made a study of any and all terrifying creatures he could find; he was considered something of an expert in summoning the Faceless, after all. But he had never seen such soldiers._

_Thankfully they died just as easily as regular soldiers; they didn’t stand up to his magic in the slightest. But in high enough numbers even a weak soldier could overpower a talented commander, and they certainly did have an advantage in that area. There must have been a ratio of ten of the mystery soldiers to their one…_

_Iago blasted one of the mystery soldiers away, then immediately spun to take out another one advancing on him from behind. Luckily they weren’t particularly bright, and didn’t seem to have any kind of unifying strategy; they were simply relying on outnumbering and surrounding the soldiers, whittling their strength down by pieces._

_Iago wasn’t the only one struggling with the enemy soldiers; through the chaos he could see Prince Xander on his horse, Siegfried swinging in precise arcs to cut his way through the enemy line. Blasts of lightning from the divine blade Raijinto told him that the high prince of Hoshido was doing much the same. Those soldiers who rode on the backs of wyverns and pegasi and kinshi had taken to the air, skirmishing with the similarly mounted soldiers and raining weapons down on the infantry where they could._

_In the distance, Iago saw a flash of blue light and heard a familiar roaring. Corrin’s dragon form reared up over the crowd, his long claws lashing out at the enemies. Perhaps because he now made the biggest target, or perhaps because they could sense who was the biggest threat, enemies began to swarm around him and move away from the other soldiers._

_Iago blasted one of the retreating soldiers, then began his own retreat as the horn sounded from the scout. They were outnumbered; better to run away than risk losing lives unnecessarily. That certainly wasn’t a position he’d taken much before joining Corrin’s army, but then, a lot of things had changed…_

_He heard the pained screech of a dragon echo across the battlefield, and for a moment, his heart seemed to stop._

 

* * *

“Iago.”

He must have dozed off sitting at Corrin’s bedside, because Xander’s stern voice snapped him to alertness. He jumped to his feet, knocking the chair he’d been sitting in over in the process.

“Prince Xander.” Not too long ago, their greetings to each other would have been strained, formal, and laced with an underlying hatred. Things weren’t quite so different now—but Iago was far too exhausted to be concerned with his feelings for the crown prince, and Xander’s voice sounded far more strained than he was used to.

“Have you been here long?” It was clearly an attempt at making conversation for its own sake, but where that would normally just annoy Iago, at the moment it at least gave him something to think about.

“I wouldn’t know,” he replied, running a hand through his hair. “Apparently, I fell asleep. I suppose you could ask the staff if you really needed an answer to that…”

He knew he probably didn’t look all that put together, which was generally a problem when presenting yourself in front of royalty, but that didn’t seem like much of an issue—Xander didn’t look particularly put together, either. Such was the issue of being at war…

“They told me that Corrin is stable, and healing well,” he said, his attention drifting from Iago to his brother laying peacefully in the medical cot. It was oh so easy to just think of him as sleeping, when in reality his body was doing everything it could to retain as much energy as possible for the healing process. “I know healing isn’t your particular area of expertise, but would you agree?”

Iago stared at Xander for a few long moments. Whether it was because he had just woken up or because the question caught him off guard, it took a while for him to process what the crown prince had asked. When it finally hit him, he grabbed the medical chart the healers had left which had fallen to the floor when he had drifted off.

“I have no reason to believe otherwise,” Iago replied somewhat cautiously. As Xander had said, he wasn’t an expert in the healing arts; why he was even asking for his opinion, he had no idea. “If anything, I’d say that his dragon blood might make his prognosis even more positive than they’re assuming. War doctors tend to err on the side of caution, for obvious reasons.” No point in getting someone’s hopes up in the middle of war where death was the assumed end, not the unlikely one. “If he had been in human form rather than dragon form, I’m certain he would be dead by now. Dragon scales are a very effective natural armour.”

Xander nodded as he spoke, but Iago was watching the tension slowly ebb and rise in the muscles of his neck. Gods, he looked so much like a young Garon it was almost frightening, and he carried himself with the same stern demeanor his father had always worn when he wasn’t in the presence of his close confidants and family.

“Iago, I’d like to ask you to take over Corrin’s tactical duties while he’s recovering,” he said, finally revealing the real reason he had struck up a conversation with him. “Perhaps you and I don’t see eye to eye on many things, but I’ve always been able to appreciate your tactical skills. I don’t want Corrin to have to worry about anything until he’s recovered; the stress won’t do anything good for the recovery process.”

“Understood, Prince Xander.” Iago looked down at the medical file, flipping through it before setting it aside. “Though might it not be wiser to stop our advance until Corrin has at least regained consciousness? After all, our army is safe within this strange encampment, and it’s not as though we stand to lose anything by slowing our advance.”

“We stand to lose _lives_ —those of the Hoshidans and Nohrians caught in my father’s war,” Xander replied. “If we cannot end that war as quickly as possible, both the people and the kingdoms will suffer needlessly.”

Iago could have rolled his eyes at the sentimentality in his words—but that was neither a smart idea, nor what needed to be said at the moment. He hadn’t been particularly serious about his suggestion; he wasn’t the sort to hold back on the advance if he didn’t have to. But it seemed like the kind of suggestion that at least had to be _made_.

“And aside from that,” Xander continued, though Iago felt he had already made his point clearly enough. “It’s not what Corrin would want. He would want us to continue to fight as hard as we can even in his absence.”

“He isn’t dead, Prince Xander,” Iago reminded him, as his explanation made it sound like Corrin was on his deathbed. “I’d even wager that he’ll be awake before too long to tell us exactly what he wants us to do. In the meantime, though, I would be glad to take over the responsibility.”

“Thank you.” Xander nodded, the conversation clearly having reached its natural end. Iago just settled back in the now righted chair, continuing to flip through Corrin’s medical chart. When the prince didn’t leave immediately, he looked up at him. “Are you planning to stay here?”

“…I suppose,” Iago replied, furrowing his brow. “Though now that I’ve ascertained Corrin’s condition, I believe I’m going to fetch some of my work. Sitting here doing nothing won’t help anyone, after all.” And there was only so much staring at a medical chart he could do. Though the fact that Xander had asked was troubling—Corrin’s siblings, particularly the Nohrian ones, had never really approved of his relationship with the second prince. “Is that going to be a problem?”

“Not that I know of,” Xander replied. “Provided you won’t be in the way of the healers. They seem more than a little wary of you.”

“As they well should be. But I have no desire to get in their way. I’ll keep to myself.” He made an X gesture over his heart as he had seen both the young princess Elise and Corrin himself do. Xander raised an eyebrow at him, and he simply waved his interest off. “Was there something else you needed, Prince Xander?”

“Not at the moment, no,” Xander replied. “If we’re in need of your tactical knowledge, I’ll send for you. In the meantime… I just ask that you keep an eye on Corrin for me. Can I trust you to do that?”

_Could_ he trust him? Not long ago, Xander would have never trusted him with _anything_ , never mind the health and safety of his younger brother. Nor would Iago have blamed him for that. After all, he’d been actively working against Xander’s goals for so long. But things had—changed. Not only because Iago was now a part of _his_ forces, rather than an enemy, but because _Corrin’s_ trust in him was almost infectious.

Iago looked down at Corrin, and almost by reflex, he reached for his hand. He half expected it to be cold, but his skin was as warm as it ever was. Holding hands was something he never would have considered to be a comforting action, not for someone like him, but when it came to Corrin… well, things were _very_ different now, after all.

“ _Can_ you trust me to do that?” he asked, his eyes not leaving Corrin even as he asked. He was likely imagining it, but he could swear he felt Corrin squeeze his hand even in his sleep. “That’s really something you’ll have to decide, I suppose.”

He could feel Xander looking at him, and from the corner of his eye he could see the crown prince sweep out of the room.

 

* * *

 

_He already knew when he heard Corrin’s terrified draconic cry that he wouldn’t be able to reach him. The press of enemy soldiers and friendly soldiers alike was simply too heavy. Had it been anyone else, he simply wouldn’t have tried—he would have continued his retreat and left them to their own devices. But it wasn’t just anyone. It was_ Corrin _._

_He tried to force his way through the crowd, but it didn’t do any good, and a few times he barely avoided the cleave of an axe or the swing of a sword. He would have continued to try in spite of the futility if not for the hand that grabbed his cape and dragged him backwards. He nearly blasted the person who grabbed him before realizing it was that green haired ninja who served as one of Corrin’s retainers._

_“Let me go, they’re going to—” He almost literally choked on the words that were meant to follow, and only slightly because Kaze was pulling on his clothing._

_“I know. But Lady Hinoka and Lady Camilla told me to get you to safety.” The very thought of Camilla being concerned for_ his _safety nearly made him laugh out loud, no matter how inappropriate the time and place._

_Camilla’s wyvern lunged at the crowds of enemy soldiers at the same time as the Hoshidan princess’ pegasus burst up out of the crowds. He was gripped with a combination of relief and fear as he saw an unconscious Corrin in Hinoka’s lap._

_“We need to go.” Kaze grabbed his wrist instead of his clothing to more efficiently drag him along towards the portal to the Astral Plane that had been opened for them. With Corrin no longer abandoned somewhere in the middle of the battlefield, he let himself he dragged along—but it was mostly because his body was moving while his mind was somewhere else entirely._

* * *

 

 The healers breezed in and out of Corrin’s room throughout the day, well into the evening. They were clearly not as confident in their prognosis was they wanted to be, or perhaps it was just the fact that Corrin was royalty; certainly none of the other patients were getting as much attention, even when they were injured just as badly. Soon they didn’t even feel nervous about working around Iago, though he did try to keep to his word and stay out of their way as much as possible. Not that he _wanted_ to interfere with their work…

Iago sat back in his chair, focusing intently on reading his book in the flickering candlelight. It was likely the middle of the night, though he hadn’t left the medical tent in so long he couldn’t really be sure what time it was.

From the corner of his eye Iago thought he saw movement; when he looked over at Corrin, though, he hadn’t moved. He went back to reading his book, assuming that the movement was just the shadows cast by the flickering candle. When it happened a second time, though, he knew he wasn’t just going crazy.

“Corrin?”

He was out of his chair and practically hovering over Corrin at a moment’s notice, looking for any sign that the young prince was conscious. It would have been far earlier than anyone had expected, but that wouldn’t have surprised him—he didn’t exactly have a wealth of faith in the knowledge and ability of the healers the army employed.

Corrin’s eyelids fluttered, and that brief glimpse of his red eyes lifted a weight inside of him. He hadn’t realized his stomach was in knots until that moment when it spontaneously untied. Corrin shifted, making low pained noises.

“…Iago…?” His voice was heavy and slurred, but it sounded as sweet as music. Iago slumped back into the chair, his legs feeling suddenly weak. “What… what happened?”

“You nearly died,” he all but spat, tightly gripping the armrest of the chair. “You could have—you very easily could have ended up dead. If your sisters hadn’t been there…”

He paused as he felt a cool, shaking hand cover his own, gripping it as reassuringly as weakened muscles could manage. He looked down, because he could hardly imagine it.

Comforting him. _Corrin_ was comforting _him_ , after _he_ had been the one to very nearly die. One could argue it was because Corrin was still too groggy, too unaware to be able to really process what had happened to him… but Iago knew better. It was just Corrin’s way.

He took proper hold of Corrin’s hand and gripped as if it was his last hand-hold in the world. He was _not_ going to cry—a man such as him had no use for such idle displays of emotion… perhaps if he kept telling himself such things, it would convince the tears already prickling at the corners of his eyes to go back inside his tear ducts.

“I… very nearly lost you.” He supposed that thought was only really hitting him now. Before there was fear, raw and very, very real, but the thought had never crossed his mind that Corrin could have very well vanished from his life in an instant. He was vaguely aware that his hands were starting to tremble, nearly as much as Corrin’s, and one of those tears had fought its way out of his eye and was running down his cheek. “If you _ever_ do that to me again, I swear I’ll…”

He couldn’t think of anything to follow, and it would have been an idle threat regardless. They were at _war_ —there was no telling what could happen in an instant. He had to live every moment with the knowledge that the next might take away the one good thing in his world…

“I don’t have any intentions of dying any time soon,” Corrin said, as if that was supposed to reassure him when intentions were about as useful as leaves in the wind. “And I know if something did happen to be, the people responsible wouldn’t be long for this world.”

“Are you even listening to yourself?! Of _course_ I would make anyone who hurt you suffer the worst pain imaginable… but it wouldn’t bring you back.”

Iago dipped his head and pressed a kiss to Corrin’s knuckles. At least that way Corrin couldn’t see his face, with his hair hanging in it. The last thing he wanted at the moment was Corrin’s pity, just because he was tired enough to let his emotions overwhelm him.

“I’ve already lost King Garon. To lose you as well…” He quite honestly didn’t know if he would survive it. Not that he was the type to contemplate suicide… but while at war, there was certainly no shortage of dangers… “And this army would fall apart without you to lead it.”

“Iago…”

“This army needs you. Your family needs you. And most importantly, _I_ need you, Corrin.” And damn all the rest; as far as he was concerned, he had _earned_ a bit of selfishness. “I was too late to get to you this time, and you would be dead had Lady Hinoka and Lady Camilla not been able to reach you in time. I won’t spend my time on the opposite side of the battlefield, being dragged away by ninja before I can do a damn thing to help you. If you insist on remaining on the front lines… then I will be there as well.”

“Iago…! Y-you don’t really mean that, do you…? The front lines… they’re dangerous.” Corrin looked so sincere about his statement, not realizing how obvious it was, that Iago couldn’t help but bark out a little laugh—even though he didn’t feel like laughing at all, and there was no humor in the sound.

“Of course they’re dangerous. But the same applies to you. And since you seem to care more about the health of others than your own, it seems like the only way to get you to pay attention to your own health and wellbeing is to tie it up intimately with my own. So listen carefully.” He was speaking in a low, almost menacing tone that he hoped would capture Corrin’s attention—and it seemed to, because when he raised his head (now quite sure he had himself put back together), Corrin was staring at him with eyes as wide as dinner plates. “Whatever dangers you face, I face as well. If you hate the thought of me being in life-threatening danger… then you’ll just have to be more cautious with your own life, won’t you?”

Corrin blinked at him, and continued to stare at him like he’d grown a second head. Then, suddenly, his expression softened. He pulled Iago’s hand towards him and rubbed his cheek against his knuckles like some kind of affectionate feline.

“I suppose I will. But _I’m_ the dragon, remember… I’m the one who comes with built-in plate armor. And even if you’re just on the front lines trying to prove a point, I’m not about to let the enemy get anywhere _near_ you.”

“Nor I, you. And I believe I’ll have a much easier time of it.” He unfolded his hand from Corrin’s and moved to cup his cheek, running his finger along the edge of Corrin’s cheekbone. “And since your brother has tasked me with taking over tactical duties while you recover, I’ll take the liberty of revising the battle formations with our new arrangement in mind. But you… should really get some more rest. Your injuries are severe, and your body needs time to heal.”

“Right… Iago?” Corrin looked up at him with those same huge red eyes. Once he found them… unsettling. Now they were a comfort.

“Yes, Corrin?”

“Stay with me until I fall back asleep?”

“I suppose I could manage that…” A smile tugged at the edge of his lips. He was sure it wouldn’t take long for Corrin to fall back asleep; the fact that he’d managed to wake up at all was frankly miraculous, given the condition he was in. But even if it would have taken hours, he still would have fulfilled Corrin’s request. Maybe he was simply getting soft in his old age...


End file.
